


Family Ties

by greenconverses



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Baby Fic, Children, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Parenting 101 with Percy and Annabeth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenconverses/pseuds/greenconverses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sons and daughters. A ridiculous thought. A wonderful idea. There, right in the center of Tartarus. Percy smiled.</i>
</p><p>Starting a family might just be Percy and Annabeth's biggest (and most important) challenge yet. Snapshots from the perfectly imperfect Chase-Jackson family. A sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/851501/chapters/1628062">A Baby Story</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. grandma

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of fic ficlets and drabbles I've written featuring Percy, Annabeth, and the family they start in _A Baby Story_. The ficlets aren't in any chronological order and usually inspired by prompts on tumblr. They will be posted as they're written or (more likely) when I remember to add them.

Despite the thick walls of her apartment, Sally Jackson hears the wails — muffled though they may be — much before the rapid knock on her front door. Those desperate, distressed sounds are ones mothers across time and space have become attuned to, even if their children are grown and out of the house. While this child isn’t one of her own, Sally is well acquainted with the tiny set of lungs those particular wails are coming from.

“Help me,” her son moans as soon as she opens the door. He’s slumped against the door jamb, diaper bag slung over one shoulder and baby sling on the other, and there’s a slightly hysterical look in his sea green eyes. “He hasn’t stopped screaming since we left the airport.”

Sally’s gaze flickers to the irate, red faced infant howling in the sling against his chest, and she can’t help but smile at the sight of Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus and two time savior of the world, brought low by his colicky three month old.

“Oh Teddy, sweetheart, come see grandma,” she says soothingly, ushering the two inside and reaching for the baby. She scoops him out of the sling, taking him into her arms and holding him against her chest as she closes the door. “It’s all right, baby, see? You’re all right, shh…”

The volume of Teddy’s cries get louder for a few moments, briefly making Percy look even more like a wild eyed horror movie victim, until the baby recognizes her voice and her soft touch against his back. She removes the hat on his head and bobs him slightly as she walks back and forth across the living room, making soothing noises low in her throat. Gradually, he settles down, his screeching turning into soft, hiccuping sobs.

“You,” Percy says in a reverent tone of voice he probably reserves for when he doesn’t want to get blasted out of existence by his immortal relatives, “are a miracle worker. I tried everything and he just  _wouldn’t stop_.”

Her son collapses face first onto the couch, not bothering to untangle himself from Teddy’s sling or take his coat off. The last time he’d flopped on her couch like this had been after his 21st birthday and he’d been so hungover, he hadn’t moved for 11 hours straight. She and Paul had timed it, even. Percy might be a few years shy of 30 and a new father, Sally muses, but he really hasn’t changed much at all.

“Starting to re-think that whole ‘have 10 kids’ plans now, aren’t you?” she teases, bobbing Teddy as she walks toward Paul’s recliner. She’d given Annabeth the rocker she’d used when Percy was a little, but the recliner works just fine to get the baby to calm down when he visits.

Percy groans into the couch cushions. “I was a fool. A  _fool_. Teddy will be the only devilchild I spawn. I’m getting my tubes snipped. Don’t tell Annabeth.”

“Mhmm,” Sally says, not believing a single word. Teddy shivers against her chest, little fists curled into her shirt, but he has finally stopped crying. “And how did she handle having to say goodbye today?”

“I don’t know who bawled more, Annabeth or him,” Percy replies, pushing himself upright. “I have never seen Annabeth cry that much in public before. She cried, he cried, and then  _I_ cried because apparently we were stuck in some gross crying feedback loop. I’m surprised we didn’t get arrested for disturbing the peace or something.”

Sally can only imagine the sight the three of them made. She kisses her grandson’s forehead. “Is that why you were so upset, sweetheart? Do you miss your mama already?”

Teddy mewls unhappily and burrows his face into the crook of her neck. His expression is a miniature version of the equally miserable one on Percy’s face, and Sally tries not to laugh at how ridiculously lost the Jackson boys are without Annabeth around.

“Don’t worry, dear, I think your daddy misses her just as much,” she whispers conspiratorially, just loud enough so Percy can shoot her a dirty look. “She’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

Although she’s proud of how much of a hands on father her son has turned out to be, especially considering the lack of healthy examples he had growing up, there’s no denying that Teddy is Annabeth’s baby through and through. Sally retroactively envies how much time Annabeth is getting with her son while he’s so small and still growing — one of the perks her daughter-in-law gets as part owner of her own design firm is being able to bring Teddy with her to work each day. This is the first time she and the baby have had significant time apart since he was born, and she’s sure it’s going to be a challenge for both of them.

When she had Percy, she had to go back to work almost as soon as she’d recovered from giving birth; she’d needed the money and Medicaid had only helped so much. She, too, had cried the entire week she had to leave Percy with the babysitter. The first months of her son’s life had not been happy ones for her, full of worry, fear and even a tiny bit of resentment. But she had loved him all the same, and knowing that she was doing everything for him had been enough for her in the end.

Percy had also only gotten a short time to spend with the baby before going back to work, but at least he has long blocks off in-between shift rotations at the firehouse. She knows he worries too much about being a good father and a supportive partner, and today’s incident has probably not helped bolster his confidence.

Sure enough, a few moments later, he says, “I don’t know if I can last five days by myself. I didn’t even lastthree hours before I had to come here. I am useless lump.”

“You’re not useless, Percy. It’s just a big change for him, and you too. You’ll get through it.”

“If you say so,” her son says glumly, running a hand through his hair so it sticks up on end. The look of exhaustion on his face is one she remembers well. “I just hope he doesn’t hate me by the end of the week. Annabeth can’t go to any conferences ever again.”

“Honey, he’s incapable of hating you,” Sally says, understanding his fears. She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “You’ll get along fine, and Annabeth will be back before you know it. And if you have trouble, you can always call me. Not that I need to a reason to get my deadline extended or anything, but it might help with the writer’s block… ”

“Using your grandchild as an excuse to procrastinate? Shame on you, mom,” Percy says, offering a small smile. He sighs, staring at his child. “I just… I hate it when he’s sad, you know?”

“I hate to tell you, but that feeling’s never going to go away, kiddo,” she replies, patting his cheek. If her son knew how many times his sadness had broken her heart, he’d never forgive himself. He always mended it right back up, though, with his kindness, sticky hands, and toothy grins.

“Besides, I’m sure he’ll be back to smiling by the end of the day. Isn’t that right, Teddy? Can you give a big boy smile for grandma?” Teddy huffs belligerently, and Percy’s smile widens as Sally giggles. “Maybe we’ll try later, when you’re not so tired from all that crying.”

Percy gets up from the couch, finally taking off the sling and his coat. “D’you mind if we stay through his afternoon nap? I don’t want to risk another crying session on the subway.”

“Of course. There’s some coffee in the kitchen if you want. Maybe even some blue sugar cookies if Paul hasn’t eaten them all.”

“You are the best,” Percy says, kissing the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom.”

She will never get tired of hearing that. 


	2. halloween

"Why," Annabeth asks archly, as she peers into play pen in the corner, "is my son dressed as a lobster, Percy Jackson?"

The baby lets out one of the high-pitched squeals he’s become so fond of making lately, and reaches up for her, waving his red clawed hands around eagerly. The long-stemmed eyes on Teddy’s hood bounce up and down as he wiggles and squirms, and she smiles at him. 

"Because my mom is a dork, that’s why," Percy replies, glancing over her shoulder at the baby. "She had him all dressed up when I went to go pick him up at the store this afternoon. Apparently tourists can’t resist lobster babies this close to Halloween."

Teddy babbles as she picks him up, cradling his head carefully, and trying to navigate the extra arms of the costume. The eyes tickle under her chin and she laughs. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about a costume now. She’s not exactly being subtle about the grandson of the sea god thing, is she?” 

Percy smiles at the two of them. “She dressed me as a clownfish as a baby. It must be her idea of a tradition.”

"At least she picked an appropriate fish for you." 

"Hey now." 

Annabeth props Teddy up a bit more, so they’re face-to-face. “What do you think, Teddy? Is your daddy just a big ol’ clownfish?”

Teddy’s big eyes focus on his father for a little bit. Percy makes a face at him, and he laughs, giving his parents one of his gummy smiles; she rubs their noses together, making him laugh again. 

"Better watch yourself, kid. You sure do look yummy and there’s plenty of butter in the fridge," Percy says, taking one of the baby’s clawed hands and mouthing at it, making exaggerated chewing noises. Teddy lets out another squeal of delight. "Mmm, baby lobster! My favorite. Should we break out the big pot and boil ‘im, Annabeth?"

"Oh no, he’s much too cute for that," Annabeth declares as the baby ducks his head into her neck. She pushes back the hood and kisses him on the top of his head, looking up at Percy slyly. "Besides… if we eat him now, we won’t be able to use him to get candy on Thursday."


	3. doctor

The creak of the bedroom door as it is pushed open draws Percy out of his doze — he has, unfortunately, become a much lighter sleeper since becoming a father — and that sound is quickly accompanied by that of tiny feet scurrying across the floor toward the bed.

Percy keeps his eyes shut and breathing deep and steady, even as the feet stop by his side of the bed. A moment later, Teddy whispers, “Dad?” and pokes him in his bruised bicep.

He stays still, ignoring another poke and whisper, and hopes maybe  _this_ time Teddy will remember his manners and let his sleeping father lie. But Teddy is rambunctious five-year-old and that is just asking too much from him.

The bed dips slightly as his son tries to haul himself up on to the mattress. Percy lets the kid struggle for a bit, listening to his grunts and annoyed huffs as the bed wobbles under his effort, before giving in and reaching out an arm to help him up.

“I thought,” he grumbles, gingerly scooting over so Teddy has room to sit beside him, “that your mom told you to not to bug me while I was sleeping?”

“That was an  _hour_ ago, Dad,” Teddy replies smartly, as if that should be obvious. “‘Sides, it’s time for your check-up!”

The boy holds up the black plastic bag belonging to his Fischer Price doctor’s kit and shakes it pointedly, his blue-gray eyes glimmering with excitement. Percy supposes this reaction is an improvement over the day before, when he’d been released from the hospital and Teddy had spent a good hour crying about Percy’s bruised face and bandaged body — Annabeth had explained that he’d been hurt in accident at work beforehand, but Teddy hadn’t truly understood what that meant until he saw his father in person.

“Wouldn’t you rather play doctor with your brother?” Percy asks, propping himself up a little more on his pillows and wincing as his stitches pull across his chest. “He’s got to be more fun than I am.”

Teddy huffs, blowing his dark brown curls out of his eyes, and Percy absently thinks he’s due for a haircut. “ _Nuh-uh_. Mom’s playin’ dumb baby games with Ben. An’ he’s not hurt like you are! You needs a doctor.”

“Well, if you say so,” Percy sighs, giving in. His son has his mother’s stubbornness and is rarely deterred from a project once he puts his mind to it. Plus, as much as he needs sleep, he hasn’t seen his kids much since his accident. “Check me out, Dr. Chase-Jackson.”

His son grins and plops the doctor’s kit on Percy’s chest, right on top of his bruised ribs. Percy lets out a pained wheeze as his ribs throb in agony and Teddy’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“Oof, watch it, kiddo,” he says, gently moving the bag off him. “Gotta be careful with your old man, okay?”

“Sorry Dad,” Teddy replies, his enthusiasm dimmed at the sight of his father’s pain. He ducks his head, opening the bag and pulling out the stethoscope; he fiddles with it for a moment before finally getting it on right, and crawls forward, holding the end out hesitantly. “‘Kay, I’m gonna listen to your heart.”

Percy nods, watching as Teddy places the plastic end on his pectoral — it’s about the one spot on his body that doesn’t hurt, so he doesn’t mind when his son moves it around after a few moments. He smiles at Teddy’s frown of concentration; Teddy looks more like Sally than either him or Annabeth, but there are moments like this when his resemblance to his mother is downright uncanny.

“How’s it sound, doc?”

“Loud,” Teddy declares, taking one of the pods out of his ears. “You wanna listen?

“Nah. I trust your judgement. You are the expert, after all.”

Teddy nods his approval and takes the stethoscope off, tossing it off the bed where it lands with a clatter on the floor. He rustles around in the bag for his next item, practically shoving his face in it when he can’t find what he wants, before turning it over and dumping out the contents on the bed.

“Don’t make too much of a mess. You’re going to have to pick it up,” Percy warns, keeping a sharp eye on those plastic bandages. He’d stepped on one once, and didn’t want to have a repeat experience by rolling over on one any time soon.

“Dad, I  _know_ ,” Teddy says with a put upon sigh. He holds up the toy thermometer. “Now I gotta take your temp… tema…”

“Temperature.”

“Temmature,” his son repeats, pressing the thermometer against his mouth. “Open up!”

Percy obliges, barely closing his lips around the tip and hoping his son hasn’t shoved that thermometer somewhere disgusting in recent days. Teddy sits back on his haunches and grabs Percy’s wrist, the one he usually has a watch on, and holds it up, staring at it with such concentration that it makes Percy snort with amusement.

“How much longer do I got, kiddo?”

“A minute,” Teddy says seriously, his brows furrowed. His concentration falters after a little while, and he sneaks a glance at his father. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Ted?” Percy says, yawning around the thermometer and sinking deeper into his pillows.

Teddy hesitates, eyes darting to the bandages around Percy’s chest, and slowly asks, “How’d you get hurt?”

Percy turns his wrist, taking his son’s hand in his and running a gentle thumb over Teddy’s knuckles. “What did your mom tell you?”

“Mom said you were fightin’ fires, but Uncle Nico said you were bein’ a stupid butt and fell down.”

Nico’s initial explanation, Percy muses, had probably been chock full of grumbled expletives that he’d had to bribe Teddy not to repeat to his parents. It wouldn’t be the first time that’d happened. The son of Hades took his responsibility as Teddy’s godfather seriously, but he often forgot to censor himself, much to Annabeth’s great displeasure.

“Well, they were both right,” Percy says carefully, pulling the thermometer out of his mouth. “I was putting out a fire. The house’s floor got weak from the heat. It collapsed while I was standing on it and I fell into the basement.”

He doiesn’t add that he’d fallen almost three stories and straight into a raging inferno that would’ve incinerated a normal mortal. Annabeth had mentioned that Teddy hadn’t been sleeping well since his accident and Percy decided he didn’t need to add to his son’s anxiety.

“You didn’t gets burned or nothin’, did you?”

Percy shakes his head. He’d been unofficially dubbed the miracle of Ladder 29, as everyone in his company had been astonished that he’d survived the fall with only a few cracked ribs, a broken wrist, and severe bruising. No doubt, they’d been expecting to drag a blackened corpse out of the basement once the fire was put out, but he’d managed to escape on his own. The only downside with such a public injury and rescue was that he’d have to recuperate the mortal way, lest he draw any more attention to himself with a miraculous overnight healing too.

“Were you scared?”

“Was I scared?”

He watches his son carefully for any signs of tears or distress, but there’s just simple curiosity shining in his blue gray eyes. Teddy has no idea how close Percy came to death a few days ago, how his minor resistance to flame wouldn’t have done him any good if he’d stayed in that smoke a little longer, how if he’d landed at just the right angle, his neck would’ve snapped and that would’ve been it for the great hero of Olympus. Teddy has no idea how many times his parents have stared death in the face and only had luck to thank for their continued beating hearts; he has no idea that the stories of great monsters and heroic feats they tell him at bedtime are real, that he and Annabeth had to fight through hell and back for the chance just to have him someday. Teddy is young and innocent, and Percy prays each night that his sons will never have to be as accustomed to death as he is.

But that’s a foolish hope for descendents of the gods, so Percy can only prepare them as best he can.

“Yeah, I was scared,” he answers at last, drawing Teddy into his arms, carefully avoiding his sore spots. He rests his chin on his son’s head, stroking his shoulder. “But not for very long. I was mostly afraid I wouldn’t get to see you, Ben and your mom again. Were you scared?”

He feels Teddy nod against his chest. “But Auntie Rachel said you’d be okay an’ Uncle Nico says to always believe her, so… so I wasn’t that scared. Ben was the bigger baby.”

Percy chuckles, the movement causing his ribs to throb. “I think we can cut your brother some slack, since he’s only two. I’m glad you were a big brave boy for your mom, though.”

“An – an’ you’ll be okay, right?”

“Well, you’re the doctor… what do you think?”

Teddy blinks at this reminder, mutters, “Oh!” and then pulls away, searching for the toy thermometer in the sheets. He finds it after a moment and holds it up to the light, examining it from a few different angles. He makes an exaggerated, “Hmmm,” noise under his breath that makes Percy grin.

“So, doc?” he prompts. “Am I gonna be okay?”

His son drops the thermometer back down with his other toys and says, in a very final tone for a five-year-old, “’Course you are. You’re  _my dad_.”

Then, as if that settles it, he curls back into Percy’s side and lays his head on his father’s chest.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Percy mutters fondly, wrapping his arm around Teddy’s shoulders before closing his eyes and falling asleep once more.


	4. sunday

As he gets older, Percy appreciates the laziness of Sunday mornings more and more with each passing week. He enjoys the slow start of those days, when he can lounge in bed and soak up the early morning sunlight creeping in the windows, and not have to jump out of bed the minute his eyes are open. They have such a nice, comfortable bed that it’s a pity there’s only one day a week he truly gets to enjoy it.

He likes waking up curled around Annabeth – he  _always_  wakes up before her now – and watching her as she sleeps, counting the freckles on her shoulders and cheeks, breathing in the lemon scent of her golden curls, waiting for the first flutter of her eyelids and then the slow, sleepy smile that crosses her face first thing in the morning. She is alive and safe, and she’ll always be that way, so long as she’s in his arms. 

Lazy Sunday mornings also translate into lazy Sunday morning sex, of which Percy has a healthy appreciation of. They’ve gotten so used to quickies and intense little fumbles that a nice, slow morning fuck is practically divine. He loves the way Annabeth’s body looks, trembling and shining with sweat in the golden morning glow. 

This particular Sunday morning, he wakes to find Annabeth’s shirt had ridden up her chest during the night, leaving her smooth expanse of stomach and the undersides of her breasts exposed, and he immediately decides it would be a crime against humanity if his mouth wasn’t on her tan skin right this second. He shuffles down the bed and gets to work, gently mapping her body with his lips and tongue. It doesn’t take long for her to wake after he begins – she stirs under him when he sucks a little harder on a patch of skin on her hip and mutters a groggy, “Percy?” when he moves back up to her breast. 

"Annabeth," he replies, voice already thick with lust. He pushes her shirt up further, exposing the rosy tips of her breasts, and enjoys the way her body arches as his thumbs catch on her nipples. "Good morning."

"What –  _oh_  – are you doing?” she asks, still sleepy, reaching to thread a hand in his hair as his mouth settles on her left breast. 

"Worshiping you," Percy says with a grin, tugging her nipple into his mouth and laving it with his tongue until he gets a familiar moan of pleasure out of her. "What’s it feel like?"

"Blasphemy," she murmurs, her eyes are shining and her cheeks are flushed pink with lust.

He lets her nipple go with a  _pop_  that makes them both shiver, and pushes himself up on his elbows to hover over her. ”I think they’ll forgive me this once.”

Percy leans down and catches her lips with his and, oh, does he love lazy Sunday morning kisses too. Annabeth’s fingers curl into the hair at the base of his neck as she sucks at his bottom lip, and Percy presses his body into hers, letting her feel every heavy, heated inch of him. Their tongues tangle together as the kiss deepens, Percy beginning to rock his hips into hers and –

“ _MOOOOOOOOOOM!_ ”

The high-pitched howl of rage splits the air, shattering the peaceful Sunday morning atmosphere into a thousand pieces. Percy has just enough time to curse and tug Annabeth’s shirt down before their bedroom door bursts open and an indignant blond four-year-old comes marching in. 

“ _Moooom_ , Teddy’s eatin’ the cereal you told him not to and –  _and_  he won’t let me watch my show even though it’s  _my turn_  and he called me a – ” _  
_

"Ben," Annabeth interrupts with a gentle sigh as Percy rolls off of her and sit up, grabbing a pillow to cover his fading erection, "What have your dad and I told you about tattling?"

“ _And_  knocking?” Percy adds grumpily, because even though he loves his children more than anything in the world, even more than Annabeth, he really,  _really_  dislikes their sense of timing. 

"Yeah, Ben," Teddy sneers from the doorway, the seven-year-old’s dark brown hair mussed in almost the exact same fashion as Percy’s. "Stop being a  _baby._ ”

"I’m not a baby!  _You’re_  the baby!”

"I’m older than you, how can I be the baby, huh? You’re stupid." _  
_

“ _Boys_ ,” Annabeth says in the tone of voice she only uses to inspire fear in the Chase-Jackson men. Instantly, the two children stop squabbling. “Teddy, stop calling your brother names, and Ben, no more tattling.”

"But – "

"No buts," Percy interrupts, giving his children what he hopes is a fairly stern glare. "Listen to your mom, and go back out to the living room. If you’re good for the next half-hour, I’ll make some blue chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, okay?"

Ben’s eyes light up and he bounces on his feet. “You promise?”

"Promise," Percy says, waving his hand. "Now scram, kiddo. And close the door behind you."

Ben hurries away, an eager grin on his face, and Percy winces as he slams the door behind him, making the photos on the wall rattle. He slumps back into his pillows as he listens for the fading patter of Ben and Teddy’s feet in the hallway, and heaves a sigh of disappointment. 

"I swear, our children never want us to get laid again," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That’s the fifth time this month."

Beside him, Annabeth snorts with amusement and then swings her legs over his hips, straddling him. He’s a bit surprised she wants to try and continue their aborted sex session; usually when they get interrupted by the kids, it’s an immediate mood killer. 

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted to have more than one,” she says pointedly, bracing her hands on his shoulders. “So really, it’s your own fault.” 

"I’m an idiot, you know better than to listen to me," Percy replies, quirking a grin. His hands settle on her upper thighs, tracing circles with his thumbs. "Are you sure you want to…?"

Annabeth reaches down, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side, and arranges her hair over her shoulder in the way she knows he finds completely irresistible. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. 

"You gave us a half-hour, Jackson," she murmurs in his ear, her hands splaying on his hips. Her determined words make his cock twitch in eager anticipation. "There’s a lot I can do to you in a half-hour." 

She captures his lips with hers and, yeah, maybe he’s not going to get his lazy Sunday morning sex, but Annabeth on top and determined is more than enough for him.


	5. storm

The thing they don’t tell you about toddlers is that once you have one, the likelihood of stubbing your toes on some god awful plastic toy goes up substantially. Even more so if one happens to be walking through said toddler’s room in the middle of the night. 

"Fucking  _shit_ ,” Percy mutters, hopping up on one foot, his toe throbbing in agony. He directs his flashlight at the floor, glaring at the toy plane that had become his most recent foe, and hoping his son won’t mind if this toy mysteriously disappears in the next 24 hours. Thank the gods it wasn’t the Legos this time. 

Lightning illuminates the room briefly and thunder crackles overhead. From the corner comes a set of muffled giggles, followed by a loud whisper of, “Daddy said some swears!” and Annabeth’s amused reply of, “I know. He’s going to be in big trouble later.”

Percy swings his flashlight back over toward the corner, where his family is curled together on his son’s bed, awash in the warm glow from the lantern on the bedside table. Annabeth has one arm around Teddy, stroking his arm lightly as he pages through a picture book with a rubber duck on the cover, and the other supporting Ben as she nurses him; she gives him a tired, but sympathetic smile.

"Daddy wouldn’t say swears if some little boy had picked up his room like he was supposed to," Percy replies, gingerly making his way back over to the bed. Teddy drops his book and ducks into his mother’s side when he realizes that his best, "Who,  _me_?” look isn’t working on his father. 

"The station didn’t need you to come in?" Annabeth asks as he climbs into bed with them, hauling Teddy up so he can sit next to his wife. He sets Teddy on his lap, hands his son the flashlight, and reaches for the book.

"Not for a few more hours. Storm’s bad, but the blackout’s not that widespread," he replies. He glances down at his son and says teasingly, "Think great uncle Zeus will get over his temper-tantrum soon, kiddo?"

There’s another angry roll of thunder that rattles the windows and makes Teddy squawk in alarm. Annabeth swats Percy in the arm, exasperated. “Really, Percy, with the kids nearby? You should know better by now.” 

"You know me," he says with a grin, kissing her on the nose as Teddy tugs insistently on the arms of his sweatshirt. "Always been impertinent."

Teddy makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, earning a laugh from his mother. “Ewww, stop  _kissing_. Daddy, read to me!” 

Percy ruffles Teddy’s hair and kisses him on the forehead, just to see him squirm. He leans back against the wall and opens the picture book. “All right, squirt. You’re going to have to hold that flashlight steady for me, like a good boy, okay? So, ‘Once upon a time, there was a yellow rubber ducky…’”


End file.
